


And So It Is-

by BennyBatch221B



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Abuse, Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Alcohol, Angst, Attempted Seduction, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Beating, Blood, Blood Kink, Blue Eyes, Child Abuse, College, Comfort, Comfort/Angst, Dark Sherlock, Dirty Talk, Dreams, Dreams and Nightmares, Drinking & Talking, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Drugs, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, England (Country), English, F/M, Feelings, Feels, Fights, Fire, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Gun Violence, Hallucinations, Healing, Hospitals, Hugs, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I Love You, I Tried, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kidnapped John, Kidnapped Sherlock, Kidnapping, Knifeplay, Knives, London, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Mind Games, Mind Palace, Multi, Music, My First Fanfic, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PTSD John, PTSD Sherlock, Past Child Abuse, Past Drug Use, Pining Sherlock, Poor John, Possessive Sherlock, Post-Reichenbach, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective John, Protective Mycroft, Protective Sherlock, Psychological Torture, Relationship(s), Sacrifice, Scared Sherlock, Scars, Secrets, Seduction, Seduction to the Dark Side, Self-Sacrifice, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use, Sherlock Plays the Violin, Sherlock is a Damsel in Distress, Sherlock's Violin, Stabbing, Student Sherlock, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, Tea, Teen Mycroft, Teen Sherlock, Teenage Rebellion, Tired John, Tired Sherlock, Top Sherlock, Torture, Underage Drug Use, Undercover, University, University Student Sherlock, Violins, Virgin Sherlock, What Have I Done, Worried John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-05-30 14:07:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6426889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BennyBatch221B/pseuds/BennyBatch221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>.<br/>.<br/>.<br/>~Sherlock drew in a soft breath, his gaze fixed on the pooling blood soaking up into the fabrics of his crinkled shirt.~ </p><p> </p><p>This fanfiction is going to show Sherlock in a bit more of a vulnerable way adding a rapid emotional roller coaster of excitement, sadness, thrill, mystery and seemingly full out heartache. This is my first ever fanfiction which I am currently in the process of writing so I would love some constructive criticism and ideas on where this fic should go because at the moment, it could go many different ways from here! Otherwise, enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And So It Begins

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! My name is BennyBatch221B (It wasn't taken! Yay! :D )
> 
> I'm just an everyday average girl who loves fanfiction and most definitely Sherlock. I am welcoming criticism, opinions and ideas on what I should do next or where the story should go from here, into to the comments because this is my first fanfiction. I would love it if I could find new techniques or writing styles to better my work for anyone who reads it. I will say that yes, this is quite short for an introduction piece but I'm attempting to have a 'comments led' story so that's why I'm keeping it short for now. Also, I will undoubtedly have some punctuation and grammar mistakes somewhere in here so in advance, I apologize! Point them out and I will fix them. :)
> 
> Thank you so much!

 

 

 

 

**Disclaimer - I do not own Sherlock (BBC). Sherlock and all characters associated with the show are property of Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat, and are not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This fanfiction piece is strictly for entertainment purposes only. **

 

_-  I would like to thank Steven and Mark for bringing these wonderful characters to life in a new and exciting way! :)  -_

 

 

              Sherlock drew in a soft breath, his gaze fixed on the pooling blood soaking up into the fabrics of his crinkled shirt. He situated himself a little better against the building's wall and pressed his scarf tighter on the fresh wound. He'd been stabbed. Quite a few times, seven to be exact- he had made sure to count for further information. Sherlock's thoughts kept going back to John- oh how he needed him right now. If only he could simply-... His phone! Sherlock stretched his free hand down towards his coat pocket, pulling at the singed fabric until it reached his slender fingertips. His hand darted around the large pocket, feeling for the cellular device. He pulled it out and traced his finger along the buttons leaving a trail of warm sticky crimson, trying to remember johns number. He never kept numbers in his phone- he simply memorized them. But now? His mind was clouding, he didn't have many clear thoughts now, his mind slipping away slowly. His fingers pressed the buttons and the phone lit up, stinging his eyes.

_-9 Missed Calls_

_-27 Missed Messages_

_-8 New Voicemail_

             The majority of these were from John and the others from Lestrade or clients. He clicked the redial button hoping for someone, anyone, to pick up. He set it to speakerphone as the loud rings filled his mind like a hypnotic trance, echoing in the alley. They were quickly interrupted by a voice raked with anger.

"Sherlock, where the hell are you?! I've been trying to get a hold of you ever since you took off this morning leaving me with all the kitchen duties, yet again!" Johns voice went in through one ear and out the other.

"Joh-" Sherlock tried weakly and was interrupted again by Johns needless nagging.

"I get it, you like experimenting but you need to act-" John continued scolding Sherlock through the phone.

"Plea-" Sherlock tried again, once again not being heard.

"And learn to clean up your own damn-"

" **John**! Listen to me! Please." Sherlock's wet coughs echoed in the alleyway. "I only have a critical amount of t-...time..." He could feel the warm liquid running down his chin and his neck, drying as his word caught in his throat. "Time before I lo-..." His shaky gasps for air became more harsh and noticeable.

" **Sherlock**!?" Johns voice quickly turned from annoyance to panic. "Sherlock- Sherlock, _answer me_. Where are you? What happened? I can tell you what you need to do on the way to you. _Sherlock?"_ John heard no reply- just small hidden groans and winces. His panic hit deep in the pit of his stomach and he felt sick. "Sherlock, bloody hell, say something, please, anything. Try to speak, for me. Keep talking and stay awake."

"Joh-..." His voice became mumbles. His eyes drooping.

"That's it, come on. I know you can do this for me. I know you won't let me down." John already had Lestrade on another line, calling everyone and doing anything he could do to find Sherlock. John even told him to get the British government- which just so happens to be Sherlock's older brother, Mycroft.

"I-I... I'm... Sor-..." *Suddenly the phone line went quiet as nothing could come out of Sherlock's mouth. Part of him wanted to apologize for running off and he wanted the doctor to know that he had been meaning to call him for the case seconds before it all happened. He recalled little bits of memory as time went by, his vision tunneling and his head light. He needed to think of something to let John know where he was. He needed something fast. Suddenly a thought left just as fast as it came and he dropped the phone on his lap, swinging his fist the best he could into the dumpster beside him. John was relieved to hear something again through the line.

"What are you trying to say Sherlock? Where are you?" John heard the banging, not that it helped much. That could have been anything! Suddenly he heard rustling, a loud clank and something skidding all the way to what sounded like a pretty busy street. Did Sherlock throw the phone? Metal banging... Pavement skids to a busy road? An alleyway? An alleyway! John heard a fire truck start up and pass by the speaker on the phone. The only fire department near a busy road like that was only three blocks south from Baker Street. John rushed out of the flat, down the street running as fast as his legs could take him. A cab would be much too slow in London rush hour. He hung up the phone knowing Sherlock didn't have it anymore and dialed an ambulance to the area. He would find him if it's the last thing that he did. Mycroft was informed of the 888 call and headed out, sending his men alongside him.

"Hyng" Sherlock's moans were getting weaker, the pain slowly melting away. He hoped John got the message. He hoped he had taught John enough to piece it together.

**"Sherlock..."**

**" _Sherlock...!"_**

His name? Being called? Or was this all just an illusion his mind played to comfort him in his final moments. No, it must be John, right? Now he was hearing heavy footsteps getting closer as they echoed off the alley walls. He took in a deep breath and succumbed to the darkness that eagerly took hold of his mind. He knew he was in good hands now.

 

Or was it all just his mind playing deadly, devious tricks? 

 

 

 

 

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed the first chapter even though it was quite short.


	2. Or Had It?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~  
> "Was it John? Had it always been John?" He smirked from behind his monitor and let out a small wisp of air through his snakelike lips, "No... it hadn't."
> 
> What will happen to Sherlock? Read and find out!  
> ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! My name is BennyBatch221B ^_^
> 
> As I said before, I am welcoming criticism, opinions and ideas on which direction the story should head in next, with open arms, into the comments. I would love to better my work for anyone who reads it and I can do that through suggestions from you guys! :D I am attempting a new style where I take suggestions/ideas from the comments and incorporate them into my story. Also, I will undoubtedly have some punctuation and grammar mistakes somewhere in here so in advance, I apologize! Point them out and I will fix them. :)
> 
> Thank you so much!

**Disclaimer - I do not own Sherlock (BBC). Sherlock and all characters associated with the show are property of Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat, and are not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This fanfiction piece is strictly for entertainment purposes only. **

 

_-  I would like to thank Steven and Mark for bringing these wonderful characters to life in a new and exciting way! :)  -_

 

 

 

 

John dashed towards Sherlock, his eyes filled with fear.

He watched as his best friend was bleeding out in a stupid alley. He dropped to his knees beside Sherlock, just in time to see him pass out. Probably from all the pain. He reached out, grabbing Sherlock's cold wrist, feeling for a pulse. He kept feeling around...

_No pulse._

John's fear hit deep in his stomach. He thought he might've been sick right then and there if not for the lack of food he ate that day. Not even half an hour ago he had been waiting in his chair to eat dinner so he could eat with Sherlock when he arrived home. His eyes welling with tears as he now blanked out, staring. Staring right at his paler than usual best friend and flatmate sitting there, motionless.

_John-_

His voice echoed in his head, trying to spring him back to reality. His breathing halted and he was caught in a haze.

_John_ -

There it was again, trying to break him from his paralyzed state. He had seen worse than this in the military so why was he so afraid? Why is he shaking? Why are his hands shaking? Why can't he move?

**JOHN-**

Johns voice finally broke through to him. He pulled off his jacket and bunched it up, he needed to get Sherlock on his back. He located the wounds, fairly certain they were stab wounds, and pressed his jacket tightly on them, staining the light tan colour. He looked down, his hands glowing ever so brightly red, even in the dim light, from all the blood. He grabbed Sherlock's scarf and wrapped it around his jacket that was on Sherlock's torso. Once he had the bleeding under control, he'd do CPR. With the scarf tide tightly, John sat to the side of Sherlock, clasping one hand over the other, interlocking fingers and centering it on his chest. He began pushing into Sherlock's chest at a rapid yet steady pace. His hands sticky from his friend's blood.

"1-2-3-4-5-6-7- Come on dammit!" Johns eyes began to well with tears, "11-12-13-14-15-Sherlock, _please_. -18-19-20-21-22-"

John felt the tears roll down his cheeks and fall onto the rough fabric of the belstaff jacket. He didn't care about that right now, he needed to focus, he needed to continue CPR until the paramedics got there. "28-29-30-" John leaned down, tilting Sherlock's head back to open his air ways and pressed his mouth onto his friends. He breathed out once, waited, breathed out again and let Sherlock's head back down gently yet swiftly. He immediately began counting to thirty again on Sherlock's chest.

_"BLOODY HELL WERE ARE THE BLASTED MEDICS-?_ "

He did the CPR cycle about 3 more times before they showed up. John kept doing it until a paramedic switched out with him. They couldn't move Sherlock into the ambulance until they had a pulse or else it would do serious damage to his brain and body being without oxygen for such a long span of time. John stood back, leaning against the wall, now hyperventilating as his eyes were glued to the scene in front of him. The paramedics got to work quickly, opening his belstaff to the sides, cutting through his once white shirt, all the way down to his bare skin. They minded the wounds, even dressed a few while they waited for the defibrillator to be prepped. Lestrade showed up right as they hooked up the defibrillator to him, sending shocks into his body repeatedly.

**"All clear!"**

_*Zapp*_

_"Starting CPR 03"_

_"Here, were ready for another shock!"_

_"Everyone, hands off! Step back!"_

_**"All clear!"** _

~~~~_*Zapp*_

It was hard for them to watch. To watch Sherlock's lifeless body jerking up off the pavement and landing back down with a thud again, _and again, **and** **again.**_ Lestrade was in shock too but came and pulled John into a tight hug to reassure and comfort him. And probably himself too. He didn't let John go. Things were looking terrible. The paramedics began taking the defibrillator off Sherlock, stepping back from the body.

The lead paramedic took a look down at his watch with a saddened expression, "Time of death? 19:-"

A loud gasp was heard from Sherlock's mouth, breaking the dreary silence and suddenly all paramedics were back working with him in a matter of seconds. John would have fallen over from the sound of Life entering his friend's lungs if it weren't for Lestrade holding him up. Everyone felt a feeling of relief wash over them as they loaded Sherlock into the ambulance, hooking him up to different monitors and tubes. Although Sherlock was stable, it wasn't over until he was back at home in Baker street with John beside him, sending away boring clients and asking Mrs. Hudson for tea. Lestrade phoned Mycroft telling him to go to the hospital and kept reassuring the Holmes brother that his younger sibling was indeed alive for the time being. He took John in the car and headed toward the hospital with the police lights on.

At the hospital, John, Lestrade and Mycroft kept quiet in the waiting room. They all were anxious to hear news about Sherlock. He went into emergency operation as soon as he arrived and a few hours passed without any word at all. The three of them looked drained and distraught. John still hadn't cleaned up his clothes, his bloodied jumper and arms that were completely covered in dried blood, now turned a sickly brownish colour. He couldn't leave to wash it off, not even for a second. What if the doctor came out while he was gone? What if Sherlock had died and he wasn't there to do something? He decided not to leave until he could see Sherlock with his own eyes, alive. The doors opened. In the waiting room, everyone's heads shot up, all eager to know who the doctor was there to talk to. He looked at John, a steady yet drained face, no emotions could be seen.

"Mr. Watson?" John felt bile rise in his throat and panic made his skin feel hot. He nodded at the Doctor.

"Yes, I'm John Watson. Is he okay? Is he alright? May I see him?" The doctor paused a moment.

"Unfortunately, your friend initially sustained a lot of damage from the attack and it was very touch and go for a long time. We had to restart his heart twice on the table... Now, he is resting In a bed. On top of that, it would be in ours and his best interest if we could give him about a pint of blood. We can't administer any more to him through the hospital so unless yo-"

"I'll do it." John said quickly, jumping at the opportunity to help his partner. He knew he had compatible blood, Sherlock had done a test with his fancy science instruments on that exact topic once upon a time, many months ago.

"Okay, we'll get you set up in a moment then. On a positive note, all damage caused by the blade should heal up fine. Your friend should be up on his feet in a few weeks. Come this way, Mr. Watson. You can see him now." The doctor smiled lightly watching Lestrade and Mycroft sigh a sigh of relief, sitting back, now more relaxed. John followed and was brought into a room and got cleaned up. The nurses offered him different clothes but he refused. He wanted to get this done and over with so he could see Sherlock. The nurse came in and sat beside John in another chair. She grabbed his arm and tied a tourniquet around it. She felt around for a good vein and gave John a countdown from 3.

"Okay sweetie, this might pinch a tad bit. 3, 2, 1..." She pushed the needle through his now cleaned and sterile skin and into his vein. John watched as his own blood transferred from his arm into the bag.

John would do anything for Sherlock.

John would give up every last drop of blood to save him if he had to. 

~

_**"My my my... What have we here?"**_ A sharp chuckle cut through the dry, moldy air like a knife. The slender fingertips traced over the video of John rushing out of Baker Street to Sherlock's aid. _ **"A pet, I see. How sentimental."**   _ His voice sounded so soft yet so vile. Almost as if he spoke words of poison, _**"Was it**_ _ **John? Had it always been John?"**_ The man smirked from behind his monitor and let out a small wisp of of air through his snakelike lips,

_**"No. It hadn't."** _

_**"Or at least, it won't be for long."** _

_**.** _

_**.** _

_~_ Thank you so much for reading! I didn't have much time to make this one the best that I could so I apologize! Next week's will be better! I promise! Aha I also might come back to edit this one at a later date as well.

Anyways, let me know where you want this story to go in the comments please! I'd love to write what you guys want! Just let me know! :) ~


End file.
